


Scale Feather Knife

by rumisfordrinking



Category: A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Lindworm!Junhee, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Witch!Byeongkwan, heavily inspired by the Lindworm Prince fairytale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:40:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumisfordrinking/pseuds/rumisfordrinking
Summary: There’s a sharp sound, like bones breaking. Byeongkwan steps back and watches, curious, at the creature that’s coiling tightly over and over in an ever ending knot. Its scales shift and creak, and when the light of the moon manages to slip between the clouds and the leaves to shine on them, there’s a flash of white, and in place of the beast there’s now a naked man.
Relationships: Kim Byeongkwan/Park Junhee | Jun
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16
Collections: le fantastique - a.c.e fic fest round 2





	Scale Feather Knife

Byeongkwan is a wildling, a child left to die in the middle of the winter forest, found by the witches dwelling within instead, taken in as one of their own. He grew up on berries and magic, powerful magic, being taught about what lurks in the shadows and how to twist and bend it to its will, running with wolves and letting crows whisper secrets in his ears. His mother laughs when he brings back bones and mushrooms from his wanderings, pats his head of messy hair and speaks with the voice of a hundred creatures. _You have soul, little one. The forest knows._ She giggles. _She’s going to love you._ And love him she does, as he never gets lost or faces any danger he can’t deal with, and the bushes are always full of fruit when he’s hungry. 

He’s allowed outside the line of the threes only after he turns eighteen. He’s sent alone, his mother and aunts gathering just behind the line of the trees, watching as he runs barefoot towards the small village not too far away.

The people know what he is, have been talking about him for years already, the farmers and hunters having sighted him lingering behind trees.

They whisper and point as he passes by.

_Look at his eyes._

_Look at his hair._

_Look at his clothes._

There’s tales of witches descending the mountain and mingling with humans, concealing their true nature, but Byeongkwan has no reason to hide. He’s proud and cocky, and he’s so much smarter than he’ll ever realize.

He becomes a messenger between the forest and the village, threading stories and spells, helping out when he’s asked to. He brings back tales and gossip to his mother and aunts, who feed happily on the silly stories of humans and gladly let him bring back dangerous secrets to trade for food and pretty knick knacks.

Years pass without much trouble until one cold, foggy, winter evening he feels a shift in the air. He’s been stalking a stag for a while, mouth watering already at the idea of having a good meal later. The animal twitches and shakes his head, before rushing away, running past Byeongkwan. He hears a crow overheard, and turns to look far, past the threes and into the valley. “Something’s happening.” he murmurs. The crow settles on his shoulder and he takes one step. Twigs and leaves crunch under his weight, shattering ice, before he’s already running.

As soon as he’s out of the forest, he can already see smoke coming from the village, as well as hearing the panicked voices of people running away. Someone spots him and starts waving his hands, the usual wariness they sport around him gone and replaced by fear.

“Help us, witch child!” they say. “It’s a monster!”

Byeongkwan walks into the main street slowly, feeling the earth shake under his soles, smelling burn and blood and terror, watching a blur of people run him by. He turns right in the small square and there he sees it.

Writhing and thrashing around the fountain, spilling water onto the cobblestone around, is a magnificent serpent, pearl white with piercing blue eyes. It’s massive, easily over eight meters long, its scales shimmering silver-blue as the last light of day starts slowly slipping away from the world. There’s some men around, brandishing tools like hoes and rakes, lunging at the creature, which screeches in pain, high pitched and chillingly human. Its tail rises high and whips in the air against one of them, throwing the man away against the side of a house, while blood spills from its wounds. It cries again, slithering back into loops around itself.

A shiver sparks down Byeongkwan’s spine at that, his heartbeat speeding up, and all the hair on his body standing like he’s surrounded by static. He’s been holding his breath all this time, an old trick to not be spotted, but as the air is punched out by the wails of the beast, he sees it snap his head towards him.

There’s something sad in its eyes.

Byeongkwan tilts his head and taps his foot twice, and all the men around the serpent fall on their back. The serpent uncoils from where he had tried to fit inside the fountain, water making his body shiny and sparkle. 

Byeongkwan walks toward him, slowly, staring at it in the eyes and not blinking. What lurks in the shadows is wary of eyes, knows damn well being seen is losing the fight: it would never come out at sundown, in the middle of a village, and it would never look at him in the eyes. Byeongkwan knows what lurks in the shadows, kills— but all this creature has been doing is crying.

He extends a hand and the tips of his fingers glide on the smooth surface of its scales. Taking him by surprise, the creature closes his eyes and pushes against his hand and into his chest, too big to cuddle closer, but still trying. Now that it’s so close, Byeongkwan can see how wounded it is, trembling and hissing. He can see how small it is, beside its length, like it’d be the runt of the litter.

“They can’t hurt you.” Byeongkwan whispers, and it’s a promise and a threat in one. He keeps still as the serpent coils around him, turning his gaze to the men that are picking themselves up and gathering around, screaming profanities and insults towards him.

“Come with.” he whispers, speaking directly against the scales in a kiss.

Thunder roars and lighting cracks, flashing white. 

And all that’s left of them in its wake is a scattering of leaves, twigs and feathers.

-  
  


Byeongkwan has his own place in the forest now, near the river and carved part ways into an old oak. It’s a small hut, with a little curated garden and a family of foxes burrowing nearby. 

He flickers back into reality knee deep in the stream and he has to keep the creature’s head in his hands as it struggles and thrashes for the shock of the spell and the cold of the water. Eventually it calms down and Byeongkwan feels the fight leave its body as it lays down quietly.

“Good baby.” Byeongkwan coos, sitting down on the bank cross-legged and letting the serpent rest its head in his lap. He pets him gently. “How did you come here? I would know if someone like you was slithering around my home…”

There’s no answer beside a long sigh. The water runs pink from the blood of the serpent for a couple minutes, and when it’s clear again, Byeongkwan stands up slowly. “Come with.” he murmurs, walking towards his home. There’s a beat of hesitation from the creature, but eventually it follows, curling up just outside the hut.

Byeongkwan steps inside and starts looking around for where he put his poultices and oils, looking in his pantry wondering if he has enough meat to feed what’s basically a little dragon. When he’s back outside he sees the crows gathered on the lowest branches of the oak, chatting and staring at the creature. Byeongkwan wonders how many are going back to tattle to his mother.

The worst gashes on the serpent’s body are deep and jagged, the scales around them cracked and chipped. There’s one hanging just by a sliver of skin, and Byeongkwan slowly tugs until it gives. He sets it aside and then starts gently stitching the wounds together. The creature whines, small and pitiful, but seems to not have any strength left to do much else. 

“I know, I know… but it’ll help you get better sooner, I promise.” Byeongkwan murmurs every time it whines. Once the wound is secured close, he smears poultice over it and gently guides the body until he’s found the next to mend. He sings to pass the time, and it doesn’t take long for the serpent to fall asleep in his arms.

When he’s done, night has finally fallen . He stays for a while sitting there, curled over the coiled body of the creature. He places his ear against it, his hands gently brushing over the scales, hearing the heartbeat travel along its body. 

There aren’t many serpent creatures that he knows live near enough to end up in the village, and most of them aren’t really interested in moving too far from their homes. Not to mention that even if they did, they wouldn’t have issues annihilating humans that bothered them, and never they would let a witch child handle them like he just did.

Rain starts falling gently, most of it being blocked by the canopy of branches overhead and Byeongkwan closes his eyes, listening to the gentle sounds all around. The serpent twitches awake, shifts underneath.

And then there’s a sharp sound, like bones breaking. Byeongkwan steps back and watches, curious, at the creature that’s coiling tightly over and over in an ever ending knot. Its scales shift and creak, and when the light of the moon manages to slip between the clouds and the leaves to shine on them, there’s a flash of white, and as Byeongkwan’s eyes adjust back after the bright light, in place of the beast there’s now a naked man.

His skin is pale white, like his lashes and his hair, red knees and elbows and knuckles, and the same ugly gashes and bruises over his body than the one on the serpent. He’s curled up on his side, trembling, and then he slowly picks his head up and looks around, until his eyes find Byeongkwan’s. A snake’s skin, light and iridescent is wrapped around him, like he had just emerged from it, like a chrysalis. 

“You saved me.” the man speaks, and you’d think for someone who’d been a giant snake until a moment before he’d sound at least a bit rough, but his voice is soothing, small, and extremely beautiful.

Byeongkwan unties his jeogori and drapes it over the man’s shoulders. “I did. You weren’t a threat. You were cursed.” he says, helping the man on his feet. He stumbles, like the fawns he sometimes dotes on, and leans heavily against Byeongkwan, looking down and away with a bit of embarrassment, pulling the vest close and wrapping it tighter around himself, messily tying up the goreum. Byeongkwan wraps his arm around his waist more firmly. “What’s your name?”

“Junhee.” the man replies. “Yours?”

“Byeongkwan. Come, let’s get inside before it starts storming.” 

Byeongkwan isn’t used to having human guests in his house— he’s barely used to humans at all— so he has to kick around stuff and fix the nest he calls a bed to let Junhee lay down on it. He kneels in front of him and brushes a hand on the inside of Junhee’s thigh. Junhee flinches away from the touch, closing his legs tightly together. Byeongkwan blinks.

“I need to check the stitches. I don’t know if they magicked themself to fit your wounds as they are now.” he explains. Byeongkwan isn’t familiar with shame, least of all about one’s body, even if he recognizes it. It’s amusing, seeing it move with Junhee. “I’d rather you not bleed out on my bed.”

Junhee shuffles around, until he’s able to cover himself as he wants, and then, slowly and unsure, allows Byeongkwan to look over his wounds, follows his careful touches quietly and then once it seems that he’s satisfied with what he finds, Junhee curls back up into himself, tucking as much of his body inside the jeogori as he’s able to. 

“Ah, right. Clothes.” Byeongkwan blinks, turning towards the small hand carved dresser in a corner. He can feel Junhee’s eyes drill holes at the back of his head, but he has no rush to get answers or questions: he’s learnt that nothing comes easily when harshly uprooted, and more often than not it ends up permanently damaged. Byeongkwan has enough time to make himself a cot next to his bed and fetch some soft covers for the night. Junhee dresses in silence, eyes shifting constantly between Byeongkwan and everything else in the room. It’s not until the witch blows on the last candle and curls up for the night that Junhee speaks again.

“Do you know what I am?”

“A cursed one, probably.” Byeongkwan answers. He debates if opening his eyes and look at his guest would make this easier for him or not, but settles for turning around and keeping them closed instead. It seems to be the right thing to do, hearing Junhee shuffle closer, his voice right behind his neck.

“Will I owe you?”

“No.” There’s plenty of malpractice around witches, and he’s more than aware of a handful of his aunts that drive a hard bargain, but he himself has never seen reason to get actually paid for his help. Sure, when people insist he takes something in exchange, he doesn't mind accepting gifts— but he never knows how to answer the question _how can I repay you?_

“Will you let me go…?”

Byeongkwan almost turns at the unease he hears in Junhee’s voice, but stops the moment he feels a tentative hand come to rest ever so lightly against his back, barely touching. “I’d suggest you wait until it will stop raining,” Byeongkwan murmurs, pushing slightly back against the point of contact. “But you can go wherever you want— Even now, if you wish.”

He keeps still, almost falling asleep, patiently waiting— he’s cared for enough critters to be used to these dilated timings, this tentative trust. The way Junhee decides to curl himself behind him is new, though, and it takes him by surprise. He miraculously manages to not show his little turmoil and scare him away, but now he’s wide awake and with the feeling he’ll have a hard time sleeping soon.

Junhee feels chilly, but not cold against him, and it makes sense all things considered. Byeongkwan almost expected him to feel smooth like he was as a snake.

“Thank you, Byeongkwan.”

The voice is small and barely above a whisper, spoken on the verge of sleep, coinciding with the moment all tension slips from Junhee’s body and he leans a bit closer to Byeongkwan still.

Byeongkwan turns around when he’s sure he won’t wake him up, cuddles closer, an arm protectively around Junhee’s waist. There’s some stray light rays filtering through the curtains on his windows, falling across Junhee’s figure. He can see the way the man in his arms is as far from human as his mother and aunts are, as probably he is as well. His hair seems to glow faintly in blue grey hues, while his skin seems to have a natural shimmer that makes it sparkle gently. Junhee’s lashes are long, or maybe they just look like that because they’re a stark white against the pink of his cheeks and blue of his dark circles, and his hair curls messily over his brow.

He’s one of the most beautiful creatures Byeongkwan has ever seen.

-  
  


Byeongkwan’s morning routine is more or less the same every day. He wakes up early to clean up around the house, harvests for vegetables and fruits for the day, hunts for meat or fish if he feels like it. He wasn’t expecting guests and yesterday he had been interrupted during his stalk, so now he’s quietly walking through the forest. 

A crow follows him from the highest branches, as usual, guiding him to a little clearing where a couple rabbits are hopping around the grass, unaware of him.

Byeongkwan thanks the earth and the forest.

On his way back he can see two spots of white outside his hut, and a smile spreads on his lips. Junhee is awake and dressed, still wrapped in Byeongkwan’s jeogori, his hair a complete mess, crouched down just outside the door, one hand outstretched to let two yearlings sniff him out. One of them, his coat white as snow, seems to have already decided Junhee is worthy of trust, as he’s nosing at him playfully.

“Dongju, don’t bite.” Byeongkwan tuts, when he’s near enough to be heard. The albino yearling, who was exactly about to bite Junhee’s ear, huffs, hopping towards the witch. Byeongkwan pets him.

“You know them?” Junhee asks. Dongmyeong, the other yearling, is now enjoying a scratch over his neck and head, leaning against Junhee’s hands.

“They’re twins.” he answers. “They’re with another witch coven further north, but keep visiting. Also, they’re not really deers, so don’t be fooled.” He turns to Dongju, who looks away pretending he has no idea what Byeongkwan’s talking about. “Especially by this one.”

A crow calls overhead and the twins hop away. As they pass behind a three, the sound of hooves changes for those of feet, and both Byeongkwan and Junhee watch as two kids laugh and sprint, eventually disappearing once again.

“They’re not like me, right?” Junhee asks, still looking in the distance where the two had been. He looks tired and melancholic, and Byeongkwan is still waiting for his sadness to spill over. 

“No,” he answers, sitting down and starting to take care of the two rabbits he had caught earlier. “That’s just their nature.” 

Junhee sits down beside him, arms wrapped around himself. “Is… is this mine too?”

“No. If it was, you wouldn’t hate it.” Byeongkwan answers, honestly. “If it was, you wouldn’t be slithering in town squares at sundown.”

Junhee cowers at that, hugging his knees. He’s obviously refraining from speaking, from spilling out all his secrets, and Byeongkwan wonders if giving him space has been the wrong choice after all. It’s not like he thinks he’s entitled to Junhee’s tragic backstory, nor that Junhee is bound to accept his help, but he knows there’s a reason he stuck by instead of running away as soon as he woke up and saw Byeongkwan was gone.

He decides to wait a little more, worrying about skinning the rabbits and then putting the meat in a bowl with some handmade sauce to marinate. He’s about to give in and ask a string of questions when Junhee finally cracks.

“Did you see a king yesterday?” 

It’s not what he was expecting, but he’s sure he can work with it until he finally hears what he's been wanting to hear. “Can’t say that I have. I don’t think there’s any king in this land who’d even try to come close. Mother and the coven kind of keeps them at bay.” he answers, staying inside the hut and ignoring the need to turn and walk to the man, pretending to be cleaning up a couple of pots and pans.

Junhee hovers by the door. “Would you be able to know if someone was looking for me?” 

“Is a king chasing you?” Byeongkwan says, feeling a hand rest over his bicep. He turns, and Junhee startles but doesn’t step back. There’s a bit of panic in his eyes, a lot of uncertainty, but also a strong resolve and will.

“My father. He’s the one who put me in that square.” Junhee says. “He’s been doing this for years. He waits for me to turn at the new moon and then the day it’s supposed to turn full again he drags me into a village. He pretends to stumble upon the chaos while on a hunting trip and fights me. He times what would look like the finishing blow when I turn, and then basks in the glory and praise of the people who have been fooled into thinking he just saved them. I’ll be bound and dragged away, kept locked until the new moon comes around again.” He bites his bottom lip and takes away his hand, rubbing his forearms as he hugs himself tighter. “People are usually too scared to even get near me, and I always try to not hurt anyone… but this village was different.” the look he gives Byeongkwan is full of awe. “And then there was you.”

Byeongkwan sustains the stare, steps close enough their feet are touching and he can count Junhee’s lashes and see a faint blush dust his cheeks. “I can help. If you want him gone… I can help.”

“You’d kill a king?” Junhee asks, eyes wide. Byeongkwan can’t help but laugh, and he feels the oak shake with laughter too, listening in their conversation. 

“I don’t fear men.” Byeongkwan explains, shrugging. He’s never understood how charges can mean anything if the people behind them are still human, why people often fear and respect them at face value. He’d kill and resuscitate a king and kill them again if he needs. “You shouldn’t either.”

Junhee lets out a single little laugh. “I don’t have much choice.”

They stop the conversation there and don’t talk about it for the rest of the day, Junhee retreating back in his shell. Byeongkwan cooks for him and makes sure his wounds are healing, he shows the bend where he can wash up and introduces him to the crows, who have become much too curious in Byeongkwan’s opinion.

“If my mother wants gossip she should come get it herself.” Byeongkwan tells one of them, after he respected Junhee’s wish to bathe alone— a pity, really, but he was brought up with manners. The crow laughs at him.

Junhee slips under the covers before Byeongkwan’s done for the day, showing no sign of wanting to go anywhere anytime soon. 

Byeongkwan is happy: he’s been alone for awhile, has spent most of his life as the only human creature around, the only other wildling he knows is older and rarely can visit, so having someone near feels nice. Junhee is also much smarter than he expected, and talking with him doesn’t feel like a chore. 

But Byeongkwan is also not used to company, let alone from someone who knows very little about the forest and being a witch. He forgets Junhee exists sometimes and it messes up his concentration, making spells backfire or be aborted. He has to host a crash course about which things are not deadly, which are dangerous and which are safe around the forest, and what to do and not do— because it would’ve been fine if the forest was just a forest, but his home was fat with magic and curses and blessings.

“There’s a god in this mountain, how can you not know!” Byeongkwan chastises him, ten days since Junhee’s taken roots in Byeongkwan’s life, pulling him back from accidentally crashing a cairn, obviously placed as a ticket for safe passage through the forest by a cautious traveller. “He might be a nice one, but you’re still an outsider and they’re not really allowed to stay!”

Junhee shakes off Byeongkwan’s hands. “Then why are you letting me?” he growls. “Why haven’t you kicked me out yet?”

And the answer is that Byeongkwan doesn’t know.

The crows are a constant looming presence by now, a warning that he’s crossing lines he can’t see but should imagine, and that the one who’s watching over him isn’t happy about it in the least. The cairns he himself has been meticulously placing around the clearing of his hut as both an apology and a request for permission are always knocked down in the morning. Even the oak stubbornly refuses to talk with him now, and that’s yet another sign that Junhee has definitely overstayed his welcome.

But he’s weak for the way Junhee curls into him at night, seeking warmth and all the skinship he’s been refused in his life, he’s weak for the way he’s managing to pry stories and secrets from Junhee’s lips without him noticing, placing piece after piece in a neat puzzle that’s slowly but surely coming along. And he’s extremely weak for the way Junhee looks uncanningly human and not at the same time, the way his cold, pale skin tone contrasts with Byeongkwan’s warm, tan one, the way his eyes are almost white in the light and his hair is long enough to be tucked behind his ear. 

There’s something feral and restless inside Byeongkwan when he allows himself to think about Junhee staying forever, sometimes strong enough he’s unsure if it’s murderous.

“You can go.” Byeongkwan reminds him. “There’s nothing keeping you here but yourself, if you want to go— just do it.”

Junhee stares at him then, unmoving, and it shakes Byeongkwan to the core for the first time since he’s ever met his eyes. It’s a piercing stare, charged heavily with unspoken words and accusations. “But there’s nothing stopping me from staying here either, is there?”

The crows scream and there’s enough of them that for a moment the light coming from the winter sky is cut off, as they fly down and around all them, calling and croaking, the ground underneath their feet shakes, once, settling and then there’s silence, deafening and oppressing as nothing moves or dare speak.

Junhee stumbles back, knocking over the cairn that started the argument, and looks around. His breathing comes short, and Byeongkwan knows it’s because the air is getting thicker and thicker.

“You want me here.” Junhee whispers, turning around to once again look Byeongkwan in the eyes. “I’m supposed to go, but you don’t want me to.”

Byeongkwan feels something snap inside him, something that’s been pulled too tight for too long, thinks he can hear the sound echo along the forest, and maybe it is, because Junhee flinches and in a blink of an eye Byeongkwan’s on him, between his legs, pinning his hands above his head, their noses almost touching.

A huge sheet of snow falls on them at once, shaking them from the moment and positively freezing them. Byeongkwan curses, shaking snow from his hair and his clothes, watching Junhee do the same. The sound has come back into the word and the crows have fled, laughing at them, but the winter air has more bite than before and the wind has picked up, pushing toward the hut. A clear invitation to leave. 

“We need to go.” Byeongkwan sighs, offering his hand for Junhee to help himself up, but gets refused. He sticks it further into his sleeves and pretends it doesn’t upset him.

Byeongkwan sleeps out that night, and comes back to Junhee wrapped in all the blankets he could find around the house. He sits down beside him and starts to pull the covers away one by one until he finally finds the man, curled up on himself and looking at him. He’s wearing the jeogori Byeongkwan had wrapped around him that first night again, but nothing else underneath. Byeongkwan undresses, shameless in his naked body, and slips in beside Junhee, who instinctively leans closer to the warmth. Byeongkwan pulls the blankets over the two of them, knowing well it will be almost too hot for him, but Junhee’s skin is cold to the touch and his only interest now is warming him up. 

“I don’t know what happened, what made me like this.” Junhee says, after a handful of minutes spent in silence. He’s uncoiled from his fetal position in favor of plastering himself all along Byeongkwan’s front, head pillowed over his chest and one of his legs thrown across his lap. “I don’t know if my father is looking for me, if my mother knows I’m gone, if my brother has been told. I don’t know where I would go from here.”

It’s easy to roll him over onto his back, to push his knees apart and his hands over his head. It’s even easier to bite at the tense column of his neck, hard, so that he arches prettily. It’s easy to swallow his moans down, kissing him open mouthed and messy until he’s chasing after his lips when he pulls back. Junhee’s waist is slim and it’s so, so easy for Byeongkwan to hold him down, fingers sinking into his soft flesh as his teeth bite into the thin skin stretched over Junhee’s collarbones. 

Junhee gasps right into his ear and he gives in so quickly Byeongkwan is a little bit scared. “I don’t know about going,” he growls, smirking. “But I can sure help you with coming.”

Junhee almost kicks him in the ribs, but Byeongkwan is quick to catch his ankle and hook it on top of his shoulder. Junhee’s always been shy around him when he was bare, and now that he’s also open and spread in Byeongkwan’s lap he tries quickly to cover himself up and wiggle away, red on his cheeks and to the top of his ears, but Byeongkwan doesn’t let him.

Byeongkwan hisses when Junhee’s nails scratch down his back, but it’s a fair price to pay for the way he throws his head back and moans loudly into the pillows as he keeps thrusting inside him steadily. Pushing Junhee off the edge feels so delightfully satisfying to him, to the point that he loses himself into the wet hot feeling of it and all he can do is surrendering to his instinct and let his body move, raw and feral, until the man underneath him can’t get any louder, his own release a distant afterthought in the wake of how much of a pretty mess he’s making of him.

He doesn’t feel like stopping even after Junhee’s come twice and him once, but a hand on his stomach begs him for a moment of reprise, pushing him off and down on his back.

He looks down at Junhee’s head between his legs, his white hair brushing against the inside of his tights and his eyes lighting up when he looks up at him, swallowing him down and staying there until he too arches and spills down his throat and over his face.

In the morning, Byeongkwan tries his best not to feel too proud by the way Junhee holds himself, relaxed and satisfied, trying to hide his limp. 

”You know I can actually help you, right?” Byeongkwan reminds him, turning on his side and resting his head on a hand. 

“I told you I don’t want you to kill my father.” Junhee says, laughing between his words.

“You’re no fun. But I was talking about the curse.” Byeongkwan points out, amused. “Or whatever binds you to that form. I can try and make you back human.”

Junhee shakes his head. “I don’t know… don’t you think someone from my family would’ve tried to stop it if it was possible to?” Junhee replies, but something in his tone makes it sound weak. Like he’s not sure himself. Like he knows it’s not the truth, backed partially by the fact that no one has come to look for him at all.

“Unless your mother is a witch or could ask one, I doubt they would be able to anyway.” Byeongkwan shrugs, picking himself up to sit. He yawns. “Especially if we’re talking about curses. They are nothing more than promises broken, the highest form of treachery and evil doing. Did you break any promises, prince?”

Junhee frowns, crawling onto Byeongkwan’s lap and sitting down on his thighs. “None that I can remember. The first time I turned was my eighteenth birthday, and since then I’ve been like this.”

Byeongkwan hums. “Then, what promise did your parents break in your place?”

-

  
  


Junhee asks him to take him to his mother a week before the new moon.

Byeongkwan wanted to wait another cycle before reaching out to his mother for help, but he’s afraid they’re too far into winter for the journey to be comfortable a month from now. Byeonkgwan hoped to solve Junhee’s curse on his own. He’s tried everything, from the basics to spells made up on the spot in the hopes to pluck the torn threads of the promises apart and free his companion. Junhee seemed endeared by both his struggles and complaints.

Part of the problem is that the solution to a curse lies in its origin, which neither of them are aware of, nor have any way of obtaining. He knows he’s been stubborn, trying to work alone, and he knows it’s just because he’s that proud and also because he feels like asking for help comes with taking responsibility for keeping Junhee against the forest’s will.

“Are you sure she can’t come to us instead?” Junhee asks him the night before they’re set to leave, sleep warm and cozy, all wrapped in what has become his favorite blanket in front of the fire. Byeongkwan had gone out to grab some vegetables for the stew he was preparing for dinner and now was stirring slowly over the fire.

“Why would she? She doesn’t care about this.” he replies, scooping up a spoonful and blowing on it before he feeds it to Junhee.

Junhee hums, swallowing down and nodding to let him know it tasted good. “Does this mean you care about me, then?” At that Byeongkwan turns, knife in hand, and it must’ve been amusing to Junhee, since he starts laughing. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll stop teasing.” he says, even as he wraps his arms around Byeongkwan from behind and rests his head on his shoulder. “I’m thankful for that. I care about you too.”

Byeongkwan tries to not show himself smiling at that, but he can hear it in his voice. “We’ll leave tomorrow at dawn. It’ll take a couple days, more if it storms.” he says, turning to face Junhee properly. “One last time: are you sure you don’t want to just... go?”

There’s warmth in Junhee’s eyes, unnamed and dangerous, before he leans in to kiss Byeongkwan on the lips. The touch is barely there, but it makes him shiver anyway, stirring whatever sits still low in his belly until Junhee choses to make it growl. He’d say it was butterflies if he wasn’t sure he’d have digested them right away.

Having Junhee pass through the forest when he’s not a teeny tiny bit welcome proves a bigger challenge than expected, slowing their pace and making the road much more difficult than it’s supposed to be.

The charms and norigae Byeongkwan’s made and adorned Junhee’s outfit with work to keep the nightmares and bad luck at bay, but they’re completely useless for everything else, like the growing shadows around them when it turns dark. Byeongkwan has to forgo sleep to keep watch and make sure Junhee’s not tore apart during the night, has to carry and find enough stones to leave cairns around, has to mark trees they pass with chalk to avoid getting stuck in a loop. The crows follow him closely trying to send them astray, and he knows the only reason they’re not picking out Junhee’s eyes is because he’s there with him and would set them on fire if they got too close. 

By the end of the third day he’s exhausted, and it makes him extremely nervous to know he might miss something important, might take one wrong step, might forget just one ward and doom Junhee to a horrible end.

His hands tremble when he lights the fire for the night and he tries to hide it from the other, not managing it in the least.

“You need to sleep.” Junhee says, worried, taking his face in his hands as they crowd close leaning against the fallen three they’ve decided would be their best chance for some sort of shelter. The forest would usually show Byeongkwan nooks and crannies where to sleep if he needed them, but now it seems to have turned against them, not only making their hike more difficult, full of sharp stones and thorn bushes, but also refusing them good shelter for the night. 

“I can’t.” Byeongkwan replies, leaning into the touch. He’s shivering pretty badly, having given Junhee one of his coats to prevent him from freezing over, and he worries the fire won’t really be enough, since he’s struggling to keep it burning, even with magic, as the snow falls heavy and steady around. They can barely see ten meters in front of them. 

Junhee pulls him close, moves them until Byeongkwan is curled up in his arms, covered by their coats. “I’ll stay up.” he insists. “Just for a while. I’ll wake you if something happens.”

“You won’t have time.” Byeongkwan groans, even as he feels his eyelids flutter and his limbs heavy. “It takes but a moment.”

He’s slipping, swaying on the edge of sleep, and he has no energy to fight it. He can tell it’s not just his exhaustion, he knows something is pushing and pulling inside his head to knock him out cold and finally feed on Junhee. It takes just a blink of his eyes for darkness to envelop them, for Junhee’s arms to squeeze around him harder, frightened.

He reaches behind them, and closes his fingers around the hilt of the knife he’s used to cut their meager dinner. He dislodges Junhee’s hands from around him and the coats from over them when he reaches up and brings it down, hard, on his thigh. The pain is almost too much to bear, flashing hot white for a moment over his eyes and making him lose sight. But he doesn’t scream, he doesn’t close his eyes, just breaths through his nose and concentrates on the way the blood flowing from his wound is scorching hot. 

Slowly, the darkness around trembles and shakes, and he’s sure he can almost make out the trees and the ground, until a shape emerges from the blackness, like it’s walking out from a pool of black tar. It’s an immense white tiger, at least two meters tall at the withers, its eyes black like a night with no moon, shiny like a lake that reflects the stars above. Another steps in after, and they circle Byeongkwan slowly a couple of times. He doesn’t move, doesn’t breath either, keeping his stare in front of himself, hand clutching the knife so hard his knuckles are white. One of the tigers stops in front of him, its face close enough Byeongkwan can feel its’ warm breath.

The tiger licks at the blood spilling from the wound, and it feels like the tongue is scraping at his skin even if he’s still completely dressed. 

He blinks, eyes stinging too much for him to keep them open any longer, and he can see once again around him. The forest is calm and serene, the snow has stopped falling and the fire is happily crackling, warming them up slowly. Junhee’s arms are loose around his waist, his breath light against the shell of his ear. Into the distance, far enough they’re almost lost into the fog, he can see the two tigers and the figure of a man with kind eyes and a golden robe. They disappear a moment later.

“Is that the mountain god?” Junhee asks in a whisper, after what feels like centuries. Byeongkwan nods slowly. “He said I’m your ward.”

“You are.” Byeongkwan replies. He looks down, but there’s no knife or wound in his leg, the utensil laying where he had discarded it before. “I think he wanted to prove my determination with you. You’re allowed safe passage now.”

Junhee relaxes, tucks his head into the crook of Byeongkwan’s neck with a little happy sound. “That was terrifying,” he murmurs. “But I want to thank him.”

“His name is Sehyoon, I think. Names are weird for gods and he’s a very old one.” Byeongkwan murmurs, turning around to face him. He feels the three days of travel and two nights of insomnia catch up at once, weighing down his limbs, as he pushes the man down and lays on top of him. “We can do that tomorrow. Let’s sleep.”

He’s out before he can feel Junhee cover them both with the coats again.

-  
  


Popular belief has portrayed witches as hunched over, wrinkled, old women, but those are nothing but hags who like to pass themselves as magic when they’re just scammers. Byeongkwan had asked Junhee if he'd ever seen a real witch, and was surprised to hear he didn’t— usually curses attract them, intrigue them, and they play with them until they get bored and leave.

“We’re here.” Byeongkwan tells him. The sun is high, and they’d see it if the sky wasn’t a slab of pure white, snowflakes fluttering slowly to the ground. The last trek to the coven had been the harshest one yet, sometimes having to climb up rocky walls before finding the trail again. 

Byeongkwan takes Junhee’s hand and guides him towards a fissure in the mountain, big enough to let them both pass, pitch black. In front of it, bushes and pines and flowers stand guard as if it was spring still, while chimes made of hollowed bones and dried bamboo canes sound with the wind.

“I’ll be honest, I expected some blood.” Junhee comments, as they step inside and their eyes struggle for a moment to adjust in the new darkness.

Byeongkwan laughs. “Oh, that’ll come soon.”

They descend the spiraling staircase roughly carved into the stone, Junhee clinging tightly to Byeongkwan as if afraid to slip and fall at any moment. The stone changes as they move deeper into the mountain, vines and grass starting to cover the ground and walls until finally Byeongkwan sees a familiar sight, hears a familiar song and smells a familiar scent.

He doesn’t take his eyes off Junhee as they step right into the belly of the mountain, an immense space that looked like a part of the forest had been swallowed inside by a giant beast. Junhee’s jaw is slack in stupor and disbelief as he looks up and around, to the roof where regularly spaced slits cut the roof from which light filters, to the immense banyan tree that has grown unnaturally immense, branches slipping up and disappearing outside, as its trunk and roots make the foundation of the little village Byeongkwan grew up in.

“Look up, see the white in the stone? See its shape?” Byeogkwan points out to Junhee, who obediently follows his finger to the contrasting color that stripes the whole dome. “It’s a ribcage. From one of the ancient dragons that ruled the earth millennia ago— they say it had challenged the god of the mountain and was made to swallow a seed. That’s where the tree comes from.”

He’s about to tell Junhee more where he hears a whistle with his name on it and he turns to face the center of the cave where his mother is preparing some rituals with his aunts. 

“Mother!” he calls, and can feel Junhee freeze in terror at his side.

His mother rises, taller than possible, as the foliage, branches and roots that cover her rustle, as her arms slip out, all eight of them, open in a welcoming embrace. He slips from Junhee’s hold and runs, jumping into her arms. She coils around his body, slowly lowering herself into the ground, her laughter happy and free. He sees half her eyes regard Junhee curiously, while the rest look warmly at him. “The crows said he was a snake.” she croaks, a hundred voices in one. “The crows are stupid.”

Byeongkwan laughs with her, as she lets him down, one hand under his knees, one at the small of his back and one cradling his head. “They’re just petty.” he tells her. “He is one, but not now— soon if I can’t help him.”

His mother hums and nods, stretching towards Junhee slowly. She reaches out a hand and beckons him closer, but he doesn’t move, his eyes almost bulging out their orbits, paler than he’s ever been before, and smelling of pure fear.

Byeongkwan skips towards him, crowding into his space, hand on his face and lips everywhere on his face. “You’re mine, she won’t hurt you.” he growls, as he slowly feels the prince relax in his embrace. There's a hand scooping them up then, another helping along as they won’t fit comfortably together in only one palm. His mother coos, another hand coming to pet Junhee on the head with one long skeletal finger.

“Ah yes, little lindworm prince.” she snickers, leaves fluttering. “I know you.”

Byeongkwan gasps. “You do?” he asks, and her top stretches, roots and branches coiling and twisting until a human face is formed, or as human as it can be. Her eyes light bright red, like Byeongkwan’s own, and when she speaks there’s not as many voices. He figures it’ll be easier for Junhee to understand.

“I did this one myself.” she hums, and Byeongkwan figures Junhee would pale even more, if he could, from the way his fingers tremble and he swallows around air. “Your mother didn’t listen, and now you’re a little monster.” Another hand pokes out of her body and signs fire in the air in an eight shape before it twists into a snake that bites his tail, and then disappears with a flicker of embers. “Her womb was arid like the desert and her sorry personality, and the King would’ve gladly traded her head for a heir— so she came by and asked for a child.” Three of her hands make a cradle where Byeongkwan sits down cross-legged, pulling Junhee in his lap as he listens rapt to the story of the promise broken. His mother tilts her head upside down, smiling at Junhee. “She was to set a cup bottoms up in the north-west corner of her garden at sundown, and in the morning collect the two roses blooms that would be underneath: one red for a precious little girl, one white for a healthy little boy. She was to eat only one of the two, that was the only promise I made her make.” The roots that make her face twist and reform somewhere else, right in front of Junhee’s face. “But she didn’t and twins were born, one pink and fresh like a red rose, and one delicate and pretty as a white one. One that would eventually twist and coil into her worst fear as punishment— she never liked snakes, did she, little one?”

Junhee retches, bending in half and trying to throw up between the fingers around them, failing as he gulps down air in panic. Byeongkwan drapes over his back and covers his lips with his hands, pushes his fingers inside deep enough he hits the back of his throat and makes him puke for good. “Better now.” he murmurs, as Junhee breaths in shakingly, looking at him the same way he was looking at his mother. Byeongkwan headbutts him gently, wiping his hand over his pants before turning to his mother once again.

“How do I make it stop?” he asks. His mother smirks at him, fourteen eyes pushed up in happy red slices, nodding in encouragement like she often did when he was learning spells. He squints back at her. “I don’t. I can’t...”

“What?” Junhee gasps and his voice is scratched from the bile. He looks horrible.

“No curse can be mended by those who didn’t break it.” Byeongkwan turns to look in his arms at the absolute mess of a man curled up on himself like a lost child. “But that’s fine. You just want control back, don’t you?”

“Good, good Kwanie!” his mother coos and she lets them down on the ground, fingers lingering to poke at Byeongkwan’s cheeks affectionately. “Let’s make new promises.”

-  
  


“I’m scared.”

Junhee stands naked in the clearing back at Byeongkwan’s hut, looking up at the sky that is just starting to darken, the brightest stars and planets already twinkling around. The only accessories on him are a couple of red braided bracelets, with lava stones entwined in them, and a choker made in the same fashion, but with a norigae hanging prettily from it on his back, the tassels tickling his skin as his shoulders shifts.

“You don’t trust me?” Byeongkwan wonders. He’s fully dressed, in a simple layered white hanbok, tied together messily with a rope he found somewhere in his house. He’s sitting on top of one of the barrels they prepared for the night, and is trying not to think about the other sitting right beside, or the whip on top of it. 

Junhee turns around, shaking his head. “I do. I just can’t help but feel scared.” he murmurs, shrugging. They were too nervous to time preparations right and are now stuck with waiting for a little less than an hour for nightfall to come. Byeongkwan had told Junhee he could’ve undressed later but he had refused and instead asked to just be given the bracelets to keep him from freezing alive.

“You’re okay with it, aren’t you?” Junhee stutters, refusing to meet Byeongkwan’s eyes. “You’re an untamed creature and this feels like putting a leash on you…”

Byeongkwan frowns at the statement. “I can assure you there’s no way you, or anyone, can tie me down in any way. I chose this. I chose you.” he replies, before doubt and nerves upset his breath and stomach, making him hiccup. “Do you?”

“I do. Of course I do.” Junhee replies, immediately, and the way his voice is so small and gentle, almost too quiet to hear, reassures Byeognkwan in his little panic.

It’s silent as they wait, neither of them having really anything to talk about. The crows had left earlier, the wind had calmed down and even the snow had stopped its steady descent. 

Byeongkwans feels it happening before he sees it, the hair on the back of his neck standing up and goosebumps covering the skin of his arm, as the air becomes heavy with static, smelling sickenly of copper and ozone. He jumps down on the ground and watches as Junhee lets out a gut wrenching scream, his head thrown back so hard he’s sure there’s no way his neck didn’t break. He watches as his jaw dislocates and the corners of his mouth rips, a white iridescent snout pushing at it until Junhee is shedding his human skin and emerges from it as the beautiful snake Byeongkwnan met him as. 

Byeongkwan tugs open the barrel he was sitting on and then steps towards Junhee, who slithers around him in a sloppy circle, before his head comes close enough for him to lick Byeongkwan when he lets out his tongue to taste the air.

“Spouse, shed a shift.” Junhee’s voice comes into Byeongkwan’s mind, clear and powerful.

“Prince Lindworm, slough a skin.” Byeongkwan replies, voice booming into the clearing.

Junhee rubs himself on the ground, winding around and around until the scales shift and crack and he’s freed of his first skin. Byeongkwan tugs at the rope around his waist, throws it away, and then pulls off his first shift.

“Spouse, shed a shift.” Junhee repeats, his scales drying fast against the chilly air of the night. 

“Prince Lindworm, slough a skin.” Byeongkwan echoes.

They dance around each other like that for eight more times, until Junhee sheds his last skin and all that’s left of him is a crawling mass of living flesh, iridescent white and weeping, until Byeongkwan is shivering naked in the harsh winter night. 

Byeongkwan turns and grabs the whip, cracking it in the air a couple times to test his grip. He plunges the length of it into the lye inside the barrel and then whips Junhee as hard as he can, powering through the horrible welts he creates on the exposed flesh, through the cries and pleads Junhee screams into the night. He dips the lash in the lye and strikes him over and over until he physically can’t bring himself to hurt him any longer. He hurriedly opens the other barrel and throws the milk that was inside all over the writhing form, drencing him. 

He takes a step back when he’s done, shivering so hard he can barely stand straight. He can’t feel his hands, nose and ears anymore, his heart struggles against the confines of his ribcage and his legs feel like they could give out at any moment. In front of him, Junhee is now nothing more than a mishaped form of meat and bones, cracking and twisting on itself. He somewhat manages to find what is supposed to be his head, and he reaches out and hugs it. His skin burns at the contact, so much he can’t help screaming in pain, but he doesn’t let go even as he feels his consciousness slip away, as he feels Junhee curl around him in reflex and then he blacks out immediately.

-  
  


When he wakes up the first thing he feels is warmth, slow and welcome as he tries to blink himself into consciousness. Once he’s managed, he’s met with Junhee looking softly at him, with an easy smile on his lips. He doesn’t really look any different from the day before, beside the fact that he seems like he finally got a good night of sleep and had never actually been beaten to a pulp ever.

“Hello.” he murmurs, and his voice is a low purr that makes Byeongkwan hum back happily. They cuddle closer and there’s a moment where Byeongkwan wonders why they’re not frozen yet, before he sees the threads of the bracelets and the choker tying them together and keeping them warm for a while longer.

He’s the first to break the embrace and stand up, pulling Junhee with him and rushing to the hut as the spell is broken and they start feeling the bite of the cold.

He sets up a quick fire and rushes to find them clean clothes and all the blankets he has around, curling in front of the flames with Junhee. 

“Do you feel any different?” Byeongkwan asks, pushing his nose insistently against his neck in an annoying attempt at warming it up quicker. 

Junhee giggles, retaliating by pushing his cold feet underneath Byeongkwan’s thighs. “Not really? I feel like me.” He pulls out a hand and moves it in front of himself, flexing his fingers and twisting the wrist as if to prove it to himself.

Byeongkwan entwines their fingers and pulls the hand back under the covers. “So, where are you going from here?” he asks, for what feels like the thousandth time since they’ve met, curious. He’s not hiding the way he doesn’t like thinking about the possible answers that would bring him far and even less about those that would bring him away, and he knows Junhee can hear it in his voice by the way he straddles Byeongkwan’s lap and leans down to kiss him, slow, soft and wet. 

“Nowhere without you.” he replies, speaking right against his skin. 

Byeongkwan's hands move easily over Junhee’s hips, holding him close and steading him. “Good.” he agrees.

He hears a crow laugh, but pays it no mind.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to markheism on twt for beta reading this fic.


End file.
